I know you’re pregnant and all. Like very pregnant — dilated 4 cm and 60% effaced. But it’s time to get your pregnant booty off the couch and stop thinking about yourself. We, your friends and family, need more frequent updates. Hourly would be nice. I mean, just look what you have done to us. We have been reduced to spying on you via Alicia who lives across the street. And due to the angle of your curtains and blinds, her sight distance is severely limited. The only thing she could report this morning was that Corey’s car was parked facing the street. And that he took the baby bag to work. This information does us no good. None. And speaking of Corey . . . his Facebook updates are equally useless. He rambled on about 41,000 frozen turkeys on I-40 from an over-turned truck. Do we care? No, no we do not. Would it kill him to write, “Niki is still pregnant.” Or “No baby action last night. Niki doing well.” Huh? Huh? Would it? Or maybe, to prep for the little bundle of joy, you could set your alarm to go off every hour throughout the night and you could text us all updates. We really would prefer texts so we wouldn’t have to get out of bed to get the latest info. I’m sure you understand . . .
Or maybe you could set up the webcam. You know, you could aim it at the couch and we could all just watch you lay there. It would be like “Survivorman” but with less bug eating. You could be all “Hunger is setting in . . .” and then your mother-in-law could bring you a sandwich. And we, WE COULD SEE IT ALL. We could watch you nap and drool on your pillow. We could watch Charlotte try and stick things up your nose or down your shirt. And best of all, we could give up the thinly veiled facade of the rotating Is-Niki-In-Labor call schedule to ask you a ‘question’* (What’s seven times eight?) or to get your ‘advice’* (Do you think it’s OK to let Zoey play with razors?). Come on, do us a solid and set up the webcam. Remember all the nice presents we gave you at your shower? Hm? The stroller and the clothes and the toys and the cake . . .
Lastly, please remember that you can’t actually shoot the kid out until after midnight tonight. That way he and I will have the same birthday and I will win the When-Will-Niki-Give-Birth pool. So no pushing until after midnight. Got it? ‘Kay.
Lots of love,
* question and/or advice meaning your current state of birthing.
** Hi Niki! Please remember that I actually really do love you but that I’m sitting here eating Truffles and chocolate chips for breakfast in a futile attempt to stave off my anxiety about your birth. I know, I know, I’m not the one that that to shove something the size of a watermelon out something the size of a nostril but . . . I had to do something. Plus, I think your nice and really really pretty and very very smart.